The NotSoThrilling Adventures of Toby
by INeedYourLove78
Summary: Toby Seville, age 13. After getting an assignment to write about his life, Toby realizes he doesn't have anything to write about! Can this change? One-shot! :


**A/N: This is kind of a different one-shot I came up with, a moment in Toby's life. He's about 13 in this.**

**The Not-So-Thrilling Adventures of Toby**

"I..."

Toby sat at the PC, his fingers numb and cold on the keyboard, the color drained from his face. He leaned forward, gazing at the stark, white background.

"I... what?" _Won the game? Saved the people? Captured the burglar?_

Toby had received this new assignment from his teacher, Mr. Stein, after he forgot to take his homework assignments with him for the 10th week in a row.

"If you do well," Mr. Stein said, "you'll get a passing grade."

Staring off into space, Toby said, "When's it due again?"

"I told you. Two weeks. Try not to forget this time."

Toby had stuffed the project into his backpack, his mind wandering.

Naturally, he'd forgotten about it. With only three days left to finish, he reread the assignment.

"Write a four-page story about yourself," he said out loud.

His face pinched. What thrilling adventures could he write about himself? Playing videogames for three straight hours? No plot. Making his bed for the first time? Not enough action. What about the time he ate a whole pie in one setting? Short on character. He needed more material.

In the movies and in the books he had read, the boys in the stories were clever and endowed with special powers or physic abilities, outwitting countless bandits, ghosts and evil camp counselors.

But he couldn't battle space aliens or solve mysteries with magic spells.

What could he do?

The remote-controlled spy video car crashed into the couch. Through his spy car night-vision goggles, Toby adjusted the camera angle on the LCD screen and could see the TV.

Secret agent Toby wrote in his spy notepad: "Mom watching TV. Mission: to find where she hid the old Halloween candy."

_Mom always eats a piece during her show, _he thought. He might spot where she kept it.

He backed up the car and rolled into the kitchen. But their dog, Roland, hated the spy car, and barked and lunged for it. Toby wiggled the control handle and made a frantic dash back to his bedroom. But Roland flipped the car on its side and chomped it. The car shook wildly back and forth in the dog's mouth; Toby felt dizzy.

He raced into the hall and bumped into the door. He'd forgotten to take off his goggles; all he could see was the shaking of the car. Ripping the headset off, he scrambled into the kitchen.

"Let it go, Roland!" he yelled.

"I told you to put the dog outside before you played with your spy car!" Mom hollered from the living room.

Toby played tug-of-war with Roland for a minute. Finally, the dog let go. Toby brought the drooly car into the bathroom and began to wipe it clean.

"And the candy isn't in the kitchen!" Mom shouted.

So much for his thrilling spy story.

Judo Toby, superhero, flew down the street on his bike in his judo outfit, searching for someone to rescue.

His head overflowed with heroic fantasies: throwing around a gang of bank robbers, kicking his way into a burning building of trapped people, stopping a speeding train from crashing into a stalled car on the tracks. Through he wasn't sure how that last one fit into his judo theme.

Sure, he had quit his judo lessons a year ago and missed earning his yellow belt, and most of the time the sensei had made him sit in the dojo for goofing off, but he knew enough judo to fake his way through without injuring himself.

After an hour of riding around the neighborhood looking for fearless deeds, his legs ached. Just as he was about to go home for a snack, he noticed a woman on the ground, her short, skinny arm disappearing between a cast-iron grate.

He skidded up to her and stopped. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"Dropped my keys down there."

"No problem, lady," Toby said. "I'll get it for you."

At last, a thrilling adventure. As he jumped off his bike and straddled the grate, he thought about working more on his superhero talk.

He peered into the dark hole. "I see it."

_With my judo vision_- but that sounded stupid, so he didn't say it.

He contemplated a kick at the thick grate, but that might hurt. Dropping to the ground, he stretched his arm to the bottom, his tongue stuck out the side, his ear mashed into the bars. "I got it!"

He tried to drag the keys up, but his arm wedged. He grunted. Pulled harder.

"I'm stuck!"

After the firefighters had gotten him loose, Toby felt humiliated. What kind of superhero needed to be saved?

"I haven't done anything thrilling to write about," Toby said to Mr. Stein after class.

"I don't want fabricated stories about yourself," Mr. Stein said. "Go home and tell me about your real life. You still have a day left."

Toby's eyes throbbed from staring at the white screen; the "I" on the page glared at him, as if daring him to make a move.

_Why would anyone want to read about my life?_

Toby looked down at the keys and tapped the letters, one index finger at a time.

"I... was... adopted at 4 years old. I remember the first time I saw my new parents. They came to my foster parents' home and brought me a stuffed toy."

_Not thrilling. _Not boring, either. Actually, it felt good. He clicked away; his eyes never left the keyboard.

Mr. Stein had written "EXCELLENT" on his paper, the first one he'd gotten in his life. He'd passed. Toby glanced at the last page.

Mr. Stein had written a comment: "Remember, Toby, your life is an adventure. Make every moment count."

Toby removed his homework assignments from his backpack, finished them and put his work back.

"Mom," he said. "Can I take judo lessons again?"

After all, this was his life. And he had a story to tell.

**A/N: I hope you liked! Review! :)**


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